


I'll Be There for You

by SmolGooDragon



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, there's some blood later down the line but it'll be tagged appropriately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmolGooDragon/pseuds/SmolGooDragon
Summary: A variety of Sanders Sides oneshots from my writing blog; highlights the Sides being there for each other when the going gets rough.





	1. Peace and Quiet

Virgil leans back on the couch, a tired hum escaping his lips. His earbuds are in, his favorite playlist drifting into his eardrums. The shades are mostly drawn, leaving the entire room streaked with shadows and soft wisps of sunlight, just the way he likes it.

For the first time in recent weeks, everything seems to have calmed down, finally allowing the anxiety-riddled Side to kick back and relax. The sound of approaching voices goes unnoticed, the noises tuned out by both the music and Virgil’s quick descent into a peaceful sleep.

“And so I said to him, ‘how dare you burn down the entire village’-”

Roman’s story is cut off as Patton lets out a breathless squeal, leaving the prince to stare in confusion as Patton rushes over to the living room couch to coo over Virgil’s slumped, sleeping form.

“Ohhhh my gosh, Roman,” Patton whispers excitedly, clasping his hands together over his mouth, “look at him- he’s so cute!”

Roman blinks in surprise before approaching, one eyebrow lifted in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be darned. He usually retreats to his own room before he conks out.”

Patton turns to Roman and gives him an excited grin, looking for all the world like an overexcited man-puppy. “I knowwww! Oh my goodness, he looks like a soft little angel!”

Roman snorts at that before moving to the back of the couch and peering over Virgil’s shoulder, disdainfully eyeing the phone loosely clutched in Virgil’s limp fingers. “...Are you serious. He falls asleep listening to ‘Paint It, Black’? How horrifyingly emo can one get…?”

Patton’s eyes narrow as he shoots Roman a glare. “Insult my soft emo child and I will physically fight you.”

Roman immediately puts his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “Not insulting, I swear.” Patton stares at him in silence for an uncomfortably-long moment before making the “I’m-keeping-my-eye-on-you” gesture. Then he holds up a finger, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I have an idea!” he whispers, suddenly dropping out of sight.

Roman blinks in surprise, rather taken-aback by the sudden shift in mood and Patton’s disappearance, but the other Side quickly darts back up from… wherever he had been, cradling a fuzzy, pale-blue blanket in his arms.

“...Is that Thomas’ favorite blanket?”

Patton shoots Roman a cheeky smile as he gently pulls the blanket over Virgil’s limp form. “That it is!”

Roman looks at the blanket wistfully, almost sulking as Patton tucks Virgil in with a feather-light touch. “...I remember using that blanket as a cape so many times…”

Patton straightens up and backs up to admire his work, a soft ‘awww’ escaping his lips as he smiles down at the snoozing Virgil. “Oh, don’t worry- I’ll let you borrow it later.”

“I- I have outgrown that blanket, I never said I wanted to bor-”

“Shh!” Patton puts a finger over his lips before he softly ruffles Virgil’s hair, an almost tearful look in his eyes as his smile grows. “Goodnight, you precious angel,” he whispers.

“...But it’s the middle of the afternoon?”

“Shhhhhh.” Patton pauses before moving to exit the living room, beckoning Roman to come along. “Come on, we don’t want to wake him up.”

Roman lets out an exasperated sigh before trailing after Patton. His gaze darts over to Virgil, snorting under his breath. A ghost of a smile whispers at the corner of his lips, and then he turns around, his steps quickening to catch up to Patton.


	2. Patch Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman needs help in the aftermath of a tough battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Careful, this chapter DOES contain mild blood/injuries, for those sensitive to things like that.  
> Also, have some lowkey Logince, because there's a startling lack of Logince content.

Roman clutches his shoulder, hissing softly through his teeth. Blood wells up between his fingers despite the pressure he’s applying, every breath he takes is a struggle, and every agonizing step he takes causes another fresh surge of pain in his wounds.

All in all, things are looking bad. He isn’t sure if he’s ever been roughed up this badly before.

And, much as he loathes to admit it, he’s going to need help— but from whom, now that’s the real question. 

Virgil? Absolutely not. Roman might be halfway to passing out, but at least he has  _ standards. _ He can’t bear the thought of Virgil’s smug little ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk. 

Patton? Not a bad choice, though Roman really isn’t in the mood for having an anxious father-figure all over him for the next month, at least.

Now, Logan, on the other hand…

 

Roman somehow manages to stumble his way over to the logical Side’s room, despite never having been there yet. It’s quite an impressive room, but Roman doesn’t have time to admire the towers of books and arrays of various different computer monitors, nor to be slightly concerned over the table covered with evidence of Logan’s Crofters addiction,  _ a la  _ several empty jam jars. No, he’s on a mission— a timed one at that, depending on how much longer he can keep pushing himself.

“Logan?” He calls out, wincing at how faint his voice sounds. “Logan, I need your h-“

 

Roman yelps as Logan suddenly pops up out of nowhere, a grumpy look on his face and an astrology textbook clutched in his hands.

“Roman, what are you doing in my r- oh!”

Logan quickly puts his book down before marching up to Roman, his brows furrowed. “Oh sweet Sir Francis Bacon, what on Earth happened to you?”

Roman winces, half-heartedly shrugging with his uninjured shoulder. “...I might have been hunting a dragon-witch?”

“ _ Roman! _ ”

“The beast needed to be slain, I tell you!”

“We told you not to go out trying to slay things until you were feeling better.”

Roman’s gaze drifts to the side, clicking his tongue sheepishly. “I know, but…”

Logan cuts him off with a loud sigh, adjusting his glasses. “Never mind, I’ll give you the lecture later. Your wounds are more important at this current point in time. Sit down there on the floor, and I’ll be right back.”

The prince blinks before slowly kneeling to the floor, hissing in pain as the movement jostles his shoulder. Logan frowns at that but doesn’t say another word, instead dropping out of sight. After a few long, agonizing seconds, Logan pops back up in a hurry, cradling a first-aid kit in his arms. He then kneels down in front of Roman, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Roman, take off your shirt.”

Roman raises a brow. “Wait, what?”

“So I can clean and bandage your wounds. Hurry up; your skin is looking paler than before.”

Roman lets out a quiet ‘hm’ before shakily wiggling out of his shirt, hissing with every jostle of his shoulder. However, after a few pained grumbles and a wet tug, Roman tosses his ruined shirt to the side.

Logan grimaces at the sight of the wound-- three deep, claw-shaped gashes on Roman’s left shoulder-- before tugging a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the first-aid kit, as well as a roll of bandages. 

“Do. Do you think it’s gonna be okay,” Roman mumbles, frowning as his vision swims for a split second.

“Mm.” Logan douses a rag in the peroxide before leaning forward. “You’ll be fine. Just need to get this cleaned up so that it doesn’t get infected-- though, I warn you, it’s going to hurt.”

Roman puffs up slightly, trying to ignore how uncomfortably feverish he feels, sweat beading on his forehead. “Oh, pssh, I can handle a little p-AI-AIN-FFFFF--” He hisses sharply as Logan pushes the soaked rag against his open wounds.

Logan raises an eyebrow, pausing in his work.

“FFFfffrriiiick,” Roman groans, screwing his eyes shut. “On a stick. Ugh, just keep going and get it over with already--”

Logan clicks his tongue and sighs before carefully continuing to clean Roman’s shoulder, occasionally having to pause in order to soak the rag again, as well as wait for the prince to regain his composure. Finally, having thoroughly cleaned up the gashes in Roman’s flesh, and noting with a hint of satisfaction that the blood-flow was slowing down to a mere trickle, Logan sets the rag aside and scoops up the roll of bandages.

“I’m going to need you to lift your uninjured arm for me.”

Roman’s brows furrow and he shakily lifts his arm, swallowing thickly before he’s able to speak. “Like this?”

“Here.” Logan reaches out and carefully guides Roman’s arm out to the side. “Alright. Now keep your arm there, and I’ll make this quick…”

Roman’s head lowers, a nauseous look on his face, but he manages to keep his arm held up. “Mmhm…” 

Logan nods in affirmation, more to himself than anything else, before unrolling the bandages. From there, he begins wrapping the bandages around Roman’s upper arm in a shoulder spica, making quick, yet careful, repetitive motions until the bandages are securely fastened around the prince’s upper arm, shoulder, and torso.

“There. That should be alright for now, but the bandages will need to be changed and the wounds cleaned in approximately an hour or so--”

Roman lets out a tired grunt before dropping his arm, closing his eyes, and leaning forward, bumping his forehead against Logan’s shoulder. “Mmmmnnnnnnnn.”

Logan tenses up, unsure of what to do. “Roman?”

“Mmmmtired…”

Logan sighs heavily. “Alright, don’t pass out on me now.” He huffs and adjusts Roman so that he bears the majority of the prince’s weight before helping him up to his feet. Judging from Roman’s wobbling Bambi legs, Logan knows he doesn’t exactly have much time before the prince passes out.

It takes a few minutes of struggling, but Logan finally manages to drop Roman on his room’s couch. 

Roman mumbles something incomprehensible before stretching out on the couch, his eyes already closed once more.

Logan tiredly adjusts his glasses, grimacing at all the residue blood on his hands. He’ll definitely need to wash himself off soon here…

“...Logan…?”

The logical Side blinks before looking down at Roman. “Hm?”

Roman’s brows furrow and he manages to shoot the other Side a grateful, if not bleary, look. “Thank you.”

Logan blinks rapidly in surprise and straightens up. “You’re welcome. Just try not to go after dragon witches again for a while, yes?”

Roman snorts before closing his eyes once more. “Mmm. I’ll try.”

“Good.” Logan looks around and grabs a blanket before pulling it over Roman’s already-limp form. “Get some rest.”

“Mmm way ‘head of you,” the prince mumbles-- and, within a few moments, he conks out.

Logan lets out a quiet ‘hm’, watching over Roman for another few moments before going to wash his hands off. 

Those wounds most certainly would require a lot of attention, and Roman, well. Roman’s never been the type to sit around and recover, so Logan and the others will likely be on babysitting duty for a while until the gashes heal up properly, just to make sure that Roman doesn’t go gallivanting off to some new adventure when he’s not ready.

 

Logan huffs, but he can’t quite bring himself to sulk.

As potentially obnoxious as this recovery period will most likely be, he knows it could have been much, much worse. At least Roman is back in one piece.

 

With that sobering thought in mind, and having thoroughly scrubbed the crusting blood from his hands with soap and water, Logan dries his hands and turns to go back to his living area-- time to go keep watch over Roman.

 

He’d tell the other Sides about what had happened, soon enough. 

For now, his main concern is looking after his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please feel free to leave kudos and comments if you have the time and/or would like to see more.


	3. One Stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton really doesn't like thunderstorms.

“Hmm, hm, hmm hmm--”

Virgil idly wanders down the stairs, humming vaguely along with whatever song is currently drifting from his headphones. He only briefly pauses at the faint sound of yet another thunderclap-- this one so close that he can feel a slight shudder go through the house.

A slow blink, a tired rubbing at his eyes, and he keeps walking, aiming for the living room. He’s a notoriously bad sleeper, and the storm most certainly isn’t helping, so he’s been aimlessly roaming for the past few minutes-- perhaps hoping to find some tiny shred of sleep sometime tonight, perhaps attempting to keep his brain occupied from negative thoughts.

He’s about halfway through the living room when another flash lights up the windows, a peal of thunder following within mere seconds.

And then a silhouette catches Virgil’s attention, drawing his gaze to the kitchen. He squints before hesitantly approaching, one hand lifting up to pull his headphones down to rest around his neck.

As he approaches the kitchen, another flash of light illuminates the house, the silhouette becomes clearer, a few seconds of tense silence, and then--

_ CR A C K! _

Although it’s hard to hear anything aside from the menacing rumble of thunder, Virgil can hear a petrified whimper coming from the silhouette huddled up on the floor, knees against his chest, an ever-familiar sweatshirt draped over his shoulders… it’s Patton, no doubt about it.

 

Virgil opens his mouth as if to say something, but his brows furrow instead and his mouth closes. He then kneels to the kitchen floor by Patton’s side. 

The other Side doesn’t notice the intrusion. Or, if he does, he’s far too frightened to care. His teeth are chattering faintly, his entire body tensed up.

Virgil’s frowns, his own shoulders beginning to tense up. Speaking isn’t his forte; it never has been, and he doubts it ever will be. Logan or Roman? They’d probably be able to talk Patton down if they were here, but of course  _ Virgil _ had to be the one here, the literal embodiment of general negativity and anxiety and--

He grimaces, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

And then he blinks, something clicking in his head. Virgil hastily grips his headphones in his hands and slides them onto Patton’s head, covering the other Side’s ears.

Patton jolts and turns his head sharply to look at Virgil.

Virgil winces at the sight of Patton’s eyes welled up with tears, his pale skin, his wide, frightened eyes-- but now isn’t the time for pity.

No, he takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around Patton’s back, pulling him close into a hug. Patton stiffens up at first but he quickly melts into the comforting touch, burying his face against Virgil’s chest and all but latching onto the other Side.

Another rumble of thunder shudders through the house, causing Patton to shiver-- but then Virgil gently reaches for the volume switch on the headphones, turning the music up a little more.

“Shh. Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles, rubbing Patton’s back in an attempt at a comforting gesture. “Breathe.”

Patton shivers again and sniffles, but his shoulders ever-so-slowly loosen up. His breaths begin to even out as he inhales deep whiffs of Virgil’s signature hoodie-- it smells like pumpkin spice candles with just a hint of soap.

Virgil settles in on the kitchen floor and continues to hold Patton, continuously rubbing the other Side’s back and occasionally patting for good measure. To pass the time, he counts the seconds between the lightning flashes and the rumbles of thunder out loud-- he doubts Patton can hear him, what with the headphones’ volume up, but the feeling of Virgil’s voice, soft vibrations through his chest, soothes the other Side even further.

After what feels like an eternity-- and he must have slipped into sleep at some point because his head feels a little fuzzy-- Virgil blinks tiredly.

 

A pause.

 

One minute.

 

Two minutes.

 

“Mmm, looks like the storm is over,” he mumbles. And then he glances down at Patton, a surprised look flickering across his face but quickly changing into a tentative smile.

Patton is completely limp against Virgil, fast asleep. The glasses on his face are skewed, his lips slightly parted to form tiny, whistling snores.

Virgil quietly snorts before adjusting so that Patton drapes over him like some weird sort of blanket. A yawn slips free of his lips and his eyelids slowly flutter closed, feeling impossibly heavy.

“Niiight, Patton,” Virgil slurs, giving the other Side’s hair one last ruffle before he falls asleep.

 

* * *

When Logan later traipses downstairs in order to make his morning coffee, he almost has to do a double-take upon seeing Virgil and Patton both sprawled on the floor, clinging to each other like teddy bears in their sleep.

The logical Side pauses, calculating out an internal debate in his head, before smirking a bit and sliding his phone from his pocket. A few quick pictures later and he carries on with his morning routine as usual, as though nothing had happened-- although, the faint smirk occasionally returns to his face as he has to step over the two sleeping Sides as he prepares coffee and a light breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for more, and feel free to make some oneshot requests, while you're here.  
> My writing blog on Tumblr is @smolgoodragon; feel free to check it out for more Sanders Sides fics and other cool, relatable writer things plus writing references.


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